


Revelations

by SweetOphelia123



Series: In The Eye of The Hurricane [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drama & Romance, Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Mutual Pining, Romance, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-07 13:56:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17961866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetOphelia123/pseuds/SweetOphelia123
Summary: Tears started to fall down her cheeks and her body was still shaking. Fenris’s eyes were tinged with sadness and she wondered if they were mirroring her own.“I can’t do this,” she sobbed, “The mages, the Templars — any of it. It all falls to me and it doesn’t matter which side I pick because innocent people will get hurt. I can’t do this, I’m alone and I can’t —”Fenris cradled her cheek in his hand and wiped her tears away with his thumb.“You’re not alone,” he murmured, “You have friends, you have me.”Hawke looked up at him and blinked. The situation was beginning to feel all too familiar, only this time it was she that was the vulnerable one and not him. But he was standing far too close to her, his eyes flicking down from hers to her lips. Years of old feelings began to stir. The sweet painful torture of silently waiting and waiting for something she could never have. This was wrong. This was all too much.“But you left.”After a few too many drinks at the Hanged Man and a bad idea later, Hawke bumps into a certain broody elf. Tempers flare and feelings are revealed.





	1. A Dark Alley And A Bad Idea

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place just before Fenris' Questioning Beliefs quest in Act 3. The second part will be posted as soon as I've fixed it up a bit. Comments and reviews are welcome.

“I’m cutting you off, Hawke,” Varric said as the bartender in the Hanged Man rang the bell of last orders.

“C’mon,” Hawke whined, pushing her auburn hair out of her eyes, “J-Just one more. It’s my round.”

Aurelie Hawke stood up and swayed. Her head swam a little. The dwarf was looking at her eyebrows raised

“Maybe another time,” he replied as he stood up and shouldered his crossbow, Bianca. “I’ll walk you back. We can’t have the Champion of Kirkwall getting kidnapped and shipped off to Tevinter by Slavers, can we?”

Hawke narrowed her dark blue eyes at him and hiccuped. 

“D-don’t call me that,” she slurred, waving a dismissive hand at her friend, “I’ll be fine. If anyone tries anything, they’ll be on the receiving end of a fireball.”

Varric gave her a sceptical look as she stumbled and held onto the table for support.

“Hawke —”

Auralie blinked, her eyes widening as she suppressed a burp. She slung her staff over her shoulder.

“Varric, relax. I’ll be fine. The walk will sober me up and I’m the Champion, remember?”

“This is exactly my point,” he muttered, rolling his eyes, “There’s a lot of nasty types out there at night.”

“You know who you sound like?” she said before dissolving into a fit of giggles, “Fenris.”

The dwarf gave a reluctant chuckle. Hawke fixed him with her signature defiant look. The one that told the people around her that she had made up her mind and no one would be able to change it. It would have worked too if it wasn’t for the fact that she let out an obnoxiously loud burp. Varric sighed, glancing around the Hanged Man as though he was looking for someone to come and help.

“C’mon Hawke, just think about this,” he told her, laying a hand on her arm, “Kirkwall isn’t safe at night and with your luck anything could happen. Why don’t we ask Rivani to join us? We’ll have the makings of an adventure.”

Hawke looked down at him and beamed, her eyes gleaming in excitement as she nodded in agreement.

“Great!” the dwarf said, his voice overly cheery, “You wait here. I’ll go and find her.”

“Be careful!” she called as the dwarf hurried off to search for the pirate captain, “She might — she might be —”

With Varric searching for Isabella, Hawke saw her chance and stumbled her way out of the Hanged Man. She let out a drunken, contented sigh as she stepped into the cool night air. She knew that Varric was trying to be a good friend like always, but she could take care of herself. She may have had a few too many, but she was the Champion of Kirkwall. Anyone who would try to mess with her would regret it in the morning.

“Kirkwall isn’t safe at night, Hawke,” she muttered to herself as she wandered through the deserted marketplace, “You should place some guards outside your estate Hawke, don’t trust templars, don’t trust mages…”

Hawke cursed as she tripped up some stairs and thrust an arm out to the beige wall to stop herself from falling over. She stumbled up to the top of the stairs and turned into a narrow alleyway. She froze as she saw two dark figures run towards her, their weapons raised. She reached for her staff. If these bastards thought that they could hurt her, _her_ of all people then they were about to make a very, very big mis—

Someone somewhere shouted. Before Hawke could search for its source she felt a heavy weight crash into her back sending her sprawling onto the cold hard ground, her staff clattering as it landed somewhere nearby and rolled just out of her reach. Her heart was pounding so loudly that she could barely hear the sound of footsteps approaching her. If she could just get up, get back on her feet —then maybe, maybe she could have a chance. But someone was pinning her to the ground. 

Shit. 

Varric was right. She had the worst luck in the world. Here she was, about to die in some grubby alleyway, alone and without any of her friends around to help her. Once news of her demise got out, she hoped that Varric would embellish it so that she could die doing some kind of heroic act such as fighting a high dragon or a pride demon or —

No. She needed to focus. The heavy footsteps were getting closer and closer. She needed to know who it was; Carta or Templars or one of the many shady characters that she had managed to piss off over the years. A list of potential options raced through her mind. She could not see how many of them there were, she would run the risk of becoming overwhelmed too quickly if she stood her ground and tried to fight. That left her with only one option. She glanced up at her assailant. 

“W-who are you?” she gasped, struggling for breath.

“You really don’t know?” a soft male voice asked her.

“I-I’ve made a lot of enemies, so forgive me if I can’t remember you,” Hawke replied, her voice hoarse, “But if you mean to kill me, please tell me who you work for? Templars? Carta? Surely you’re not going to make a dying woman guess?”

The man chuckled as he bent down, grabbed a fistful of her auburn hair and pulled her face up. He was a mess, his black greasy hair was plastered to his face, his nose was broken in several places and his face was covered in scars. He was grinning at her, his brown teeth were rotting and his breath stank.

“Afraid I can’t tell you that, Champion,” he mocked, “My patron thought it best to remain … anonymous.”

Hawke glared at him as she tried to extend her arm, her fingers crawling towards her staff. The man caught sight of her attempting this and rested his foot on her wrist.

“Uh, uh,” he chided, applying an uncomfortable amount of pressure on her wrist with his foot, “My patron requested that we take you to her alive. But if you don’t go quietly, we might not be able to meet that request."

Hawke crinkled her face up in confusion. 

“So if she doesn’t want to kill me, then what does she want with —”

A blood curdling cry interrupted her as one of the grunts sank to his knees. A familiar lyrium infused hand clenched his heart and wrenched it out of his chest. The ringleader’s eyes widened in horror and he let go of Hawke’s head, letting it bang on the ground.

“What in the —” he yelled as he turned to face his attacker. 

Now was her chance. Hawke summoned up all of her energy and blasted the person pinning her down with her mind. He flew backwards into the wall with a sickening thud. But she too busy scrambling for her staff to pay attention. The sound of metal clashing with metal filled the air. She heard more yelling, a familiar voice calling out her name. But she ignored it as she stumbled to her feet. She saw a mop of white hair ducking and dodging as the men swung at him with their swords. She scrabbled at the wall as someone kicked her in the stomach, almost causing her to double over. She pushed her assailant away from her and shot a fire ball at him, his screams joining the cacophony of grunts and yelling. 

“Hawke! Run!” 

Aurelie stumbled over fallen bodies, unsure if they were alive or dead. Not that she cared, they were trying to kill her after all. She pushed someone out of her way as she struggled to run to the other end of the alley, to safety. She halted, watching as a familiar elf fought three men at once, parrying their blows with his greatsword like a graceful dancer. She saw two of them crumple to the ground, wearing expressions of confusion as they bled out from their wounds.

“Hawke!” he yelled at her as he dodged another blow from his adversary’s sword. “I told you to run.”

She barely registered his words as she fumbled her way to an exit. Her eyes widened as she noticed an archer standing at the end of the alley. His bowstring was stretched, the arrow aimed at the elf’s’ back. 

“Watch out!” she gasped, not quite loud enough for the elf to hear. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, Hawke sent a blast of ice at the archer and ran as he shattered into pieces. Adrenaline pumped through her body. All she could think about was escaping. She needed to run, she had to get away before the elf could stop her. Before he, of all people, could see her like this — drunk and vulnerable and scared.

She collided with something warm and firm, their hands gripped her upper arms tight as they stumbled backwards into the wall with a grunt. Panic flooded through her as she scrabbled to break free of their grip.

“No!” she yelled, “Get off! Get off me!”

Their fingers tightened but she still fought desperately, trying to push them away. But her weight was used against her as a pair of strong arms whirled her around and forced her back to the wall.

“I said get off me!” she screamed, trying to push the person away.

“Hawke, stop struggling,” a deep voice soothed, “Keep still, it’s me. Fenris.”

Hawke froze, her eyes widened as she found a familiar pair of green eyes staring back at her. A pair of eyes that haunted her dreams. She had studied them so much over the last few years that she could remember every detail, even the flecks of gold and hazel. That pair of eyes was now staring back at her in concern, checking to see if she had any obvious sign of injury. Her stomach dropped. 

“Fen—Fenris?” she said, her voice breathless and shaky, “W-why are you here? Taking a night off from brooding?”

She saw the faintest hint of a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. He was still catching his breath, his lyrium tattoos finally fading back to silvery white. 

“I wanted to talk to you, but you were not home,” he told her, irritated, “Bodahn told me that you had gone to the — never mind. What were you thinking, walking around on your own at night? Especially in this state?”

“In what state?” she quipped, “I’m fine. Nothing sobers you up like getting ambushed in a dark alley.”

Fenris raised his eyebrows and waited for her to elaborate. Hawke narrowed her eyes at him, somewhat relieved that he had loosened his grip on her arms. Her whole body was still shaking so she placed her hands on his forearms to steady herself. She looked away from him , suddenly fascinated by the dust on her boots.

“Okay, so I was supposed to wait for Isabella and Varric,” she sighed, “But I gave them the slip. As you can see, I’m fine and I had the situation handled.”

Fenris scoffed.

“If you define being pinned to the ground, unable to move as handling the situation,” he remarked, “What were you thinking Hawke? Are you really that naive? They could’ve done anything to you. Killed you or worse —”

“Actually, they were only going to take me to some woman, didn’t say who.”

Hawke felt Fenris’ body tense at that statement. She shivered as his eyes flashed in anger. 

“How can you be so blasé about this?” he chided as he let go of her and began pacing, “You’re the Champion of Kirkwall —”

“— Don’t call me that —”

“ — And that makes you even more of a target. All your enemies — anyone who has a grudge against you will grasp at any opportunity to take you down. What if they had succeeded in taking you?”

“But they didn’t —”

“What if I hadn’t been there to intervene? You don’t even know why they wanted you —”

“—But you were. Fenris, I had a plan —”

“—They could have handed you over to the Templars — made you Tranquil or shipped you off to Tevinter to be some magister’s thrall,” he continued, the lyrium in his skin began to glow a bright blue again, “I dread to think what would have happened if I had been too late or —”

“—Fenris. Stop” she warned as the elf paused and looked at her. She took a breath and continued in a softer voice, “Just — Just stop, take a breath. Look, I am fine. Only a few cuts and bruises, nothing that a good night’s sleep and an elfroot tonic won’t fix.”

His expression softened and his shoulders heaved.

“I’m sorry. I’m not mad — I just — you just scared me that’s all,” he replied as he picked up his greatsword and strapped it to his back, “You’ve been so reckless, I don’t understand it. This isn’t you.”

“I know,” Hawke replied, her voice sounding tired and weak, “I just — I just wanted to forget. Just for a while.”

“Forget?” he asked, taking a step towards her.

She looked away, letting a curtain of hair cover her face as her eyes welled with tears. She bit her bottom lip hard, willing them not to fall. She could feel Fenris looking at her, but she could not return his gaze. His eyes had a habit of looking right into her, seeing through her veneer of sarcasm and bravado right to the frightened, vulnerable little girl underneath. Right now, she couldn’t bear it; couldn’t bear to see the pity that would be in his eyes.

“Aurelie?” his voice made her name sound like a soft lilting lullaby, “What do you mean?”

Hawke squeezed her eyes shut. She did not want Fenris to see her like this — so, small, so weak and exposed. No, not him of all people. She could feel her body shaking. Her head swam. She felt faint as though she had vacated her mind and someone else had taken control of her body. Hawke opened her eyes, the world was hazy as though she was viewing everything through a veil. The beige buildings and night sky continuously shifting and changing shape and the ground had given way beneath her feet. She was floating, floating above a great abyss and she was just waiting to fall into it. 

“Aurelie?” Fenris repeated as he reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear, “What is it?”

She let out several shallow breaths. She could feel the cool steel of Fenris’ gloves against her skin as he lifted her chin with his hand, forcing her to look at him. It hurt too much to look into those eyes — those eyes that reminded her of things that should have been forgotten, never to be talked about again. It was like a knife to the gut. How could she begin to explain to him? How could he possibly understand?

“I just — I’m supposed to be this hero and everyone looks to me for guidance and strength. I nearly died fighting the Arishok” she sniffled, hugging herself, “And now they call me the Champion of Kirkwall but how can I possibly live up to that? I mean, how can I be expected to protect a city when I couldn’t even protect my own family?” 

Tears started to fall down her cheeks and her body was still shaking. Fenris’s eyes were tinged with sadness and she wondered if they were mirroring her own. 

“I can’t do this,” she sobbed, “The mages, the Templars — any of it. It all falls to me and it doesn’t matter which side I pick because innocent people will get hurt. I can’t do this, I’m alone and I can’t —”

Fenris cradled her cheek in his hand and wiped her tears away with his thumb.

“You’re not alone,” he murmured, “You have friends, you have me.”

Hawke looked up at him and blinked. The situation was beginning to feel all too familiar, only this time it was she that was the vulnerable one and not him. But he was standing far too close to her, his eyes flicking down from hers to her lips. Years of old feelings began to stir. The sweet painful torture of silently waiting and waiting for something she could never have. This was wrong. This was all too much.

“But you left.”

The words hung heavy in the cool night air. Fenris stepped away from her, looking aghast. She gave him a look of defiance. He needed to know. He needed to know the pain he had caused. In that moment, she wanted him to hurt.

“What?”

“You. Left,” she repeated, her voice thick from crying, “That night three years ago — after Hadriana, after we slept together. You were going to just leave —”

“—Aurelie —” he hissed through gritted teeth, “I hardly think this is the time and place to —”

“— If I hadn’t woken up when I did, would you have just left with no explanation? I know you were struggling and you needed time. But I waited. I waited years for you and you still didn’t come back. Why?”

The elf’s hands balled into fists and he began to pace again. 

“You don’t understand,” he snapped, “I was —”

“—Then make me understand,” she demanded, wiping her eyes, “Do I disgust you because of what I am? Tell me, how many times did you have to bathe before you managed to wash away the shame of sleeping with a mage?”

“No! It wasn’t like that,” he replied, his markings began to flare, “Aurelie, you’re still drunk.”

“Then what? What was it, Fenris?” Aurelie spat, balling her fists so tight that she was driving her fingernails into the palms of her hands, “A mistake? A moment of weakness? An easy lay and nothing more?”

Fenris let out a strangled yell as he kicked a nearby crate in frustration. It clattered against the wall, the wood snapping. Aurelie cringed as he turned towards her, his bright blue markings burning her eyes. This was it. She had pushed him too far. She clenched her eyes shut, waiting for the moment when his fist would plunge into her chest and rip away her heart.

Silence fell. Her heart skipped several beats, still waiting. Waiting for the inevitable...

But nothing happened. She opened her eyes. Fenris stood before her, his chest heaving. His markings began to fade.

“I told you before I — that night was more than I could have dreamed of.”

Hawke felt her head swim.

“Then w-what — why do you behave as though it never happened?” she asked him, feeling her knees beginning to give way, “That night meant everything to me.”

“Aurelie —”

“— I-I don’t understand you, Fenris,” Hawke sniffed, her voice brittle, “You say you are alone in the world. But you’re not. Hadriana, Denarious, Verania — I was there by your side, fighting for you. I have tried, time and time again to show you that you are more than what that — that monster did to you. And each and every time, you just — you just —”

Aurelie’s words dissolved into great wracking sobs, her tears fell thick and fast. There was nothing she could do to stop them. Her knees gave way and she began to sink to the ground. Sink into the abyss that was hovering below her. Fenris caught her and held her close to him, wrapping an arm tight around her waist. 

“I’m sorry, Aurelie,” he choked as he stroked her hair, “I owe you an explanation. And you will get it, you have my word. But you will have to wait until tomorrow, when our heads are clear. I will take you home and will send word to Varric and Isabela. Agreed?”

Hawke mumbled an assent as she buried her face into his chest, still shaking and crying. She clung to him. He was the only thing that was solid and real. The warmth of his body; the feel of rough leather under her finger tips, the soft thrum of his lyrium markings brought her back to reality. He was her anchor, the only thing preventing her from falling into the deep abyss; steadfast and constant against the turmoil around them.

They remained in the embrace for a few moments longer, long enough for the ground to return underneath their feet and the world to right itself around them. The veil had lifted and the pair broke apart. Fenris picked up Hawke’s staff and handed it back to her. But she stumbled, grabbing his wrist to stop herself from falling over. He looked at her, his eyebrows raised and before shouldering the staff. She gave him an apologetic smile. There was a small mischievous glint in Fenris’ eyes and before she could work out exactly what he was planning, he swept her up into his arms. He chuckled as she yelped in surprise, shooting him a playful glare before wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Her body relaxed as she snuggled into his chest, breathing in the heady scent of sandalwood and sweat.

Fenris and Hawke made the journey back to Hightown in comfortable silence. In fact, it wasn’t until they had reached Hightown Market that Fenris had realised that she had fallen asleep in his arms. He was sure to pick the most deserted streets to walk down. He did not want to have to come up with any awkward explanation as to why he was wandering around in the dead of night, carrying a seemingly unconscious Champion in his arms. 

He reached the Hawke estate and awkwardly rung the doorbell. He waited, hoping that somebody would be awake to open the door. Although the mage was quite petite, his arms were beginning to ache from carrying her. He sighed in relief as he heard the muffled sound of her mabari barking and Bodahn yelling for someone to answer the door.

A few seconds later, Orana opened the door, wiping the sleep from her eyes. Aurelie’s dog, followed closely behind, bouncing around and barking in excitement.

“I’m afraid Serah Hawke is away at the moment,” she yawned, “Would you like me to take a mess—”

Her eyes widened in horror as she took in the mage slumbering quietly in Fenris’ arms.

“She had too many ales at the Hanged Man again,” he grimaced, “She’ll be a little headsore when she wakes up, but other than that she’s fine.”

“Oh. Um, well in that case, come in,” the blonde elf replied as she opened the door further and gestured for him to enter.

“Could you fetch her some water, Orana?” Fenris asked as he strode through the entrance hall.

“O-of course,” the servant replied, closing the front door and running off to the kitchen.

Fenris grunted as he carried Hawke up the stairs, the muscles in his arms straining from the effort. Her mabari, Giacomo was at his heels, wagging his stumpy tail eagerly. Fenris opened the door to her bedroom and gently laid Hawke on the bed. He sighed as a dull ached pulsed through his arms and back. He propped her staff next to her wardrobe and pulled an elfroot potion. He glanced at Giacomo as he placed it on the nightstand. 

“She will be ok, boy,” he told the dog, “She just needed to forget for a little while.”

Giacomo sat on his haunches and cocked his head to one side, curious. Fenris shook his head as he stepped towards the end of the bed and began to unbuckle Hawke’s boots. He made quick work of them, pulling them off her feet and placing them at the end of the bed. He froze as she stirred and mumbled something, terrified that he had disturbed her. But she merely turned onto her side and curled up. He sighed in relief and covered her with the blankets, making sure to tuck her in. He sank into the chair, exhausted, his own body complaining at him about the night’s events. Fenris watched her for a few moments. She looked so peaceful, a far cry from the fiery leader she was and the heroic champion Varric made her out to be. 

There was a soft knock on the door. He stood up abruptly as Orana walked in, carrying a goblet of water.

“Is there anything that I could get you, messere?” she asked him.

“No thanks. I will be leaving soon.” he replied, standing up and walking over to her desk, “There is one more thing, however.”

He tore a page out of one of Hawke’s notebooks and wrote a message on it before folding it in half and handing it back to the servant.

“Make sure that this gets delivered to Varric, first thing in the morning,” he told her.

“Very well.”

He watched as Orana left the room and then turned back to the sleeping Hawke. He felt a small glimmer of hope. For all the vitriol she had spat at him earlier, there was still a chance — a small chance that she would choose him. Maybe he hadn’t left it too late after all. 

Somewhere from the hallway, he heard a clock chime two. It was far too late and as tempting as it was to stay with Hawke until she woke up, Fenris needed his own bed. He tore another page out of the notebook and scribbled down another message. He folded the note in half and placed it next to the elfroot on the nightstand. He turned to Hawke, brushed a few strands of auburn hair out of her face and smiled.

“I swear to you, I will always be at your side,” he told her as he bent down and kissed her on the forehead.

And then he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing these two, their angst gives me life.  
> Anyway, thank you for reading. Comments and feedback are welcome. :)


	2. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric patted her hand and took another swig.
> 
> “Does it have something to do with your face?” he asked, gesturing to the graze on her cheek and the purple bruise blooming under her left eye.
> 
> “Y-yes,” she replied, “I got ambushed on my way home. Fenris helped me fight them off, we argued and now he hates me. The end.”
> 
> Hawke buried her face into her hands, cringing from the memory. To her surprise, Varric chuckled.
> 
> “You really don’t see it, do you? I don’t think the elf could hate you even if he wanted to.”
> 
> “Well he does now.”
> 
> “I never thought I’d take you for an idiot, Hawke.”
> 
>    
> Aurelie Hawke has to deal with the consequences of her drunken outburst from the night before. What's worse is that Fenris wants to talk to her about the night they shared three years ago. 
> 
> This chapter is NSFW as there's smut at the end. Yay smut!

“Maker Hawke! What happened to you?” Aveline exclaimed as Aurelie walked into the sitting room to greet her. 

“I had a few drinks with Varric,” she replied, giving the Guard Captain a twisted smile, “Got into some trouble. You know how it is.”

Aveline pursed her lips together and raised an eyebrow.

“Let me guess, you got into a bar brawl again?” she said with a disapproving frown.

Aurelie absently traced the graze on her cheek with her fingers.

“Something like that. Anyway, to what do I owe the pleasure? I take it this isn’t a social call?”

The Guard Captain heaved her shoulders and sighed.

“I’m afraid you’re right,” she said, “How would you like to take a trip to Dark Town with me?”

“You always take me to the classiest places, Aveline. What is it this time? Carta? Crazy blood mages?”

Aveline gave a reluctant chuckle.

“Wrong on both counts I’m afraid,” she told her, “Fenris gave me a tip off about a group of slavers operating from a base there.”

Hawke gave a melodramatic sigh.

“Why is it never rescuing puppies or kittens?” she said, “Very well, I will go with you. Maker knows I could do with the distraction.”

Aveline looked bemused.

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re not telling me everything?” she asked, narrowing her dark green eyes, “I’ll wait here while you go and get your things.”

Aurelie hurried off, cursing Aveline’s uncanny ability to know when something from her. It wasn’t because she didn’t trust her — after all, Aveline was practically family — it was just that she didn’t want to hear another lecture or be reminded of the night before.

Not that she could forget of course. 

Aurelie shuddered as she entered her bed chamber and shouldered her pack. She could remember the events of last night in clear, horrifying detail; the ambush, Fenris, their argument. Her shoulders tightened, she had spat so much vitriol at him that it wouldn’t be fixed by a mere apology. She paused as something caught her eye. A slip of paper had fallen on the floor between the nightstand and the bed. She picked it up and unfolded it, her heart dropping as she read the elf’s untidy scrawl:

_Hawke,_

_Let’s talk. When you’re ready, meet me in my mansion._

_Fenris_

Her eyes widened as she re-read the note, trying to discern any possible hidden meaning behind his words. She knew that they needed to talk. But how could she even begin to explain to him? That it had been a moment of weakness? She had never been angry at him. Not really. Her mask had slipped and he had been on the receiving end of all the loneliness and pain that she had spent three years concealing from the world. She pictured him scoffing at her words. Yeah, there was no way he would choose her now. 

“Hawke?” Aveline called up to her, “Is everything alright?”

Hawke jumped, her train of thought broken. She pocketed the note, grabbed her staff and ran down the stairs.

“I’m sorry,” she replied, “I had misplaced a glove. Turned out it was under the bed.”

Aveline rolled her eyes.

“What am I going to do with you?” she said, “Shall we call on Fenris? I think he would like to join us for this.”

Aurelie froze.

“N-no!” she cried, feeling a blush heating up her face.

Aveline stared at her as though she had suddenly sprouted six heads.

“Seriously Hawke, is everything OK?”

“Y-yes,” Aurelie replied, licking her lips, “It’s just — it’s just that I thought we could drop by Anders’ clinic on the way. Varric and I have been worried about him recently.”

“Me too,” Aveline replied, her voice quiet, “Let’s get going. I’ve told Varric that we’d meet him at the docks, you know that dwarf can’t resist following your heroic exploits.”

“More like foolish exploits.”

“I wasn’t going to say it.”

The pair of them trudged out of the estate, ready to face another day of saving a city hellbent on destroying itself. The words from Fenris’ note reverberated around her mind. She knew he wanted to clear things up between them and that apologising would be the right thing to do. The conversation needed to happen, it was just that she was terrified of the outcome. 

They picked up Varric and successfully managed to root out an entire den of slavers. Aurelie’s thoughts kept returning to Fenris and his notes. She couldn’t help wondering what he wanted to say to her. That he hated her, probably, and that he never wanted to see her again. She fiddled with the note in her pocket, trying to ignore the concerned looks that Varric was shooting her.

The trio trudged back to Lowtown and Hawke felt drained. She had spent the afternoon arguing with Anders over mage rights. She agreed with him in principle. Something needed to change. But he kept talking about drastic action and that scared her. He was changing, beyond all recognition. Anders was no longer the kind friend that she knew, he was melancholic and he looked hopeless. She wished that she could help him regain sight of his original goal. But in truth, she was sick of trying to save her friends from themselves and the treacherous paths they were determined to walk down.

“Fancy a drink, ladies?” Varric asked as they stopped outside the Hanged Man.

Aveline shook her head.

“Sorry Varric,but I need to write this up,” the Guard Captain told him, “Maybe another time.”

Hawke watched, staring into space as Aveline bid them farewell and walked off back to the barracks. She followed Varric into the Hanged Man, letting the chatter and laughter of the patrons wash over her. The pair sat down at the table and the dwarf gestured to the bartender to bring them their usual.

“So Hawke,” he said, snapping her out of her reverie, “What happened last night with our broody elf?”

“Hmm?”

“C’mon Hawke,” he said as the bartender placed two flagons of ale on the table, “There must’ve been a reason for the note he sent this morning.”

Hawke sipped her ale, hoping Varric wasn’t going to push for any more details.

“Yeah, we may have bumped into each other,” she replied, feeling her cheeks heat up, “After I gave you the slip — sorry about that by the way.”

“That’s all right. Then what happened?”

Aurelie bit her lip, staring into her flagon of ale and studying the way the bubbles frothed and popped.

“What do you mean?”

“C’mon Hawke, it’s you and Broody,” Varric replied, taking a long sip of ale, “Something must’ve happened. What did he do? Single handedly take down a mob of ruffians and sweep you off your feet?”

She shot him a deadpan look and heaved her shoulders. 

“He caught me in...a bad moment,” she sighed, “I said — I said some things I shouldn’t have. Now it’s all a big mess.”

Varric patted her hand and took another swig.

“Does it have something to do with your face?” he asked, gesturing to the graze on her cheek and the purple bruise blooming under her left eye.

“Y-yes,” she replied, “I got ambushed on my way home. Fenris helped me fight them off, we argued and now he hates me. The end.”

Hawke buried her face into her hands, cringing from the memory. To her surprise, Varric chuckled.

“You really don’t see it, do you? I don’t think the elf could hate you even if he wanted to.”

“Well he does now.”

“I never thought I’d take you for an idiot, Hawke.”

Aurelie looked up at him, bemused.

“Think about it,” Varric told her, draining his cup of ale, “Why does he trust you, despite the fact that you're a mage? Why do you think he still hangs around you like a lost puppy?”

A smile flickered on her lips. Of all things she had heard people describe Fenris as, a ‘puppy’ had to be the least fitting.

“Oh I don’t know, a sense of duty?” she replied, “He still thinks he owes me a debt.”

Varric shook his head dismissively. 

“Hawke — he helped you get home last night —”

“And? He was just being kind —”

“— Because he still cares for you.”

“Not anymore.”

Varric rolled his eyes.

“Aurelie,” he said, his voice firm. The fact that he used her first name shook her to her senses, “Did he actually tell you that? Did he say the words, ‘I hate you’ to you?”

“N-no but —”

Varric reached over and grabbed her neglected mug of ale. She was too distracted to protest.

“Then I really think you should go and talk to him, Hawke,” Varric replied, “I know it’s what you’ve been wanting to do all day.”

“But—”

Varric drained her mug of ale and banged it onto the table.

"If it all goes to shit, just remember that you have an exceptionally handsome dwarf by your side.”

Aurelie gave a reluctant chuckle.

“Careful Varric,” she replied with a smirk as she stood up, “We don’t want to make Bianca jealous do we?”

Varric laughed and wished her luck as she left the Hanged Man. She took a few deep breaths before she started to walk the longest route back to Hightown. She was stalling, she knew. Delaying it was only going to make it worse. But she could not stop herself. 

Hawke scoffed. Here she was, the Champion of Kirkwall, vanquisher of dragons and the Arishok, scared of having a conversation. Scared of her own feelings. Such a coward.

She sighed. Why couldn’t she just admit it to herself? She was afraid of losing him. Of losing another person that she loved. As painful as the awkward limbo they’d been in was, at least she knew he would stay with her for a while at least. Now that he had seen how ugly she could be, the situation was a lot more precarious. 

“Why would he want me?” she muttered to herself.

Hawke walked through Kirkwall’s labyrinthine streets lost in her own thoughts. Eventually, she found herself outside Fenris’ mansion, frozen to the spot. Her heart was hammering so loud, it cancelled out every other sound. Was she really going to do this? She could just leave, pretend it never happened.

No. Fenris deserved better. He deserved an explanation. Besides, he was the one who wanted to talk. The least she could do was meet him halfway. Even if that meant losing him forever. She took a few deep breaths, steeling herself for the very awkward conversation that was about to happen and knocked on the door.

No answer. 

Her stomach dropped. Maybe he had gone out? Maybe he thought she would never come to him? He’d finally given up to her. She had left it too late.

No, no she was getting ahead of herself. Hawke pushed the door open a little. She cast a furtive glance around her before stepping inside.

“Fenris?” she called as she stood in the entrance hall, her voice tentative, “Fenris? Are you there?”

Hawke walked into the dusty sitting room, feeling small. She hadn’t realised how empty his home felt. She was used to people filling their homes with belongings, bits of clutter that gave an insight into their personality. But aside from a few pieces of furniture and pictures left by the previous owner, the house was mostly a blank slate. He’d never meant to stay in Kirkwall. She felt a pang of guilt. She’d kept him here, surrounded by the memory of his past, of the torment Danerious had inflicted on him. 

“Hawke?” Fenris replied, “Is that you?”

Hawke looked up. Fenris was standing at the top of the stairs, his expression impassive. She berated herself as she realised that she should have brought a bottle of wine with her. But then, maybe it was a good thing that she had forgotten. After all, alcohol was what got her into this mess. She walked up the stairs and sat down in the study, wringing her hands and wondering how she could begin to explain.

“I don’t know if Aveline told you,” Hawke began, eyes fixed on the fire, “But we cleared out the nest of slavers you told her about.”

“I — uh — thank you,” Fenris replied, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Hawke still watching the flames in the fireplace, wishing that her stomach would stop twisting itself in knots. She could feel him watching her. She licked her lips and took a deep breath, bracing herself.

“I got your note,” Hawke told him, tucking her auburn hair behind her ear. 

“Ah, yes —”

“Fenris,” she interjected, “Before you say anything. I just — I just want to apologise for last night. I was drunk and I shouldn’t have said those things. I’m sorry.”

“Hawke —”

She took a deep breath and carried on, “I understand if you don’t want to speak to me again. Just know that I’m —”

“Hawke,” Fenris told her, “Stop.”

She looked up at him, eyes wide, her fingers clutching her robes.

“What?”

“I promised you that we would talk about...everything,” he told her, “I know we’ve never discussed that night three years ago.”

“Because you never wanted to talk about it,” Aurelie replied, heatedly. Fenris held up a hand to silence her and she took a few deep breaths.

“I thought it best. For both of us,” he replied, pinching the top of his nose, “But I was such a fool. I should have stayed.”

Aurelie stopped fiddling with the fabric of her robes. Her heart stopped for a few moments. It felt as though the whole world was holding its breath. Fenris had stood up and was pacing in front of the fireplace. She watched the flames cast dancing shadows across his face. 

“What do you mean?” Aurelie asked, the question burned in her mind. She bit her lip as he turned his back to the fire to face her. Fenris sighed.

“I mean,” he replied, his hands were clenching and unclenching into fists, “All those years ago — if I had stayed, if I had told you how I felt instead of leaving, everything would be —” 

Fenris closed his green eyes for a few moments, she could see that the lack of his usual eloquence was frustrating him. She waited for him to gather his thoughts back together and stood up, taking a few steps towards him.

“I should have told you then, what I have felt all along,” he continued, his voice soft.

“W-which is?” Aurelie asked, her throat dry.

Aurelie could see a glimmer of hope in his green eyes. Her breath caught in her throat, her skin was tingling. She felt her hands begin to shake as he gave her a sad little smile.

“That you mean everything to me,” he said, looking her dead in the eyes, “That I want to stay by your side always.”

He swallowed and Aurelie noticed that the laces of his tunic were loose, his tawny skin complimenting the olive green fabric. Her heart was racing. All her life she was able to think of the perfect quip for any given situation, but for the first time in a long time, words eluded her. She closed the gap between them, standing so close that she could hear him breathing.She cupped his cheek in her hand, his skin warm and smooth under her fingertips. She pulled him in close, her other hand gripping the rough fabric of his tunic and raised her face to meet his. She felt his body tense as she looked into his eyes, the first time in three years that she could manage it without feeling the pain of loneliness and rejection.

And then Hawke kissed him, soft and gentle. His body relaxed, his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her in closer. She felt him smile as he kissed her back, his firm lips slanted across hers. She tangled her fingers in his soft white hair. This had to be a dream. The outside world dissolved around them and nothing else mattered except the faint taste of fine Tevinter wine on his lips and the scent of the sandalwood soap that clung to his skin. She felt his hands on the small of her back, fingers bunching the fabric of her robes. This had to be a dream, she told herself. It had to be. Any moment now, she would open her eyes and find herself staring up at the canopy of her bed, alone and frustrated. 

Her eyes fluttered open and Fenris gave her a wolfish grin. She felt herself beaming at him, like an idiot, her head still swimming.

“Fenris,” she whispered, brushing his hair out of his eyes, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

He chuckled, she felt it rumble through him. 

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” he told her, before kissing her again.

His kiss was more forceful this time and Hawke responded in kind, nipping lightly at his bottom lip. She felt his fingers clench her hair as his other hand gripped her waist. Her breath caught as she felt him plant kisses down her neck, her fingers grabbing at the fabric of his tunic.

“Fenris?” 

“Mmm?” he replied as he nuzzled her neck, his other hand sneaking up her side to squeeze her breast through the fabric of her clothes.

“A-are you sure you want to do this? I mean, do you want me to stay?”

He paused and looked at her, his pupils dilated. His lips were swollen, Aurelie wondered if hers were the same.

“That was the idea,” he told her, smirking, “But we don’t have to if you don’t want —”

She kissed him again, her hands pulling his tunic up his torso and over his head. Hawke ran her hands over his chest, feeling his muscles tensing underneath his tawny skin. Fenris moaned as she raked her nails through his hair, his deft fingers unlacing the back of her robes. She groaned, impatient. There were still too many layers of fabric between them and she wanted to be closer, to feel the heat of his skin on her own. His hands were at her shoulders now, gently pulling her robes down and letting it pool at her feet. She shivered as the cool evening air hit her skin, causing it to breakout in goose pimples. He took a step back from her, his eyes roaming the contours of her body. She stared down at the floor, feeling vulnerable.

“Sorry,” he murmured, closing the distance between them again, “I just wanted to look at you. You’re beautiful.”

Hawke blushed and wrapped her arms around her torso. She could she a question flicker in his green eyes and she bit her lip.

“What is it?” he asked her, his voice tinged with concerned, “Have I —” 

“Oh no, no, no,” she babbled, feeling the blush deepen from pink to crimson, “It’s not you. It’s just —”

She took a deep breath and gave him a twisted smile. 

“I-I’m not accustomed to people telling me that I’m beautiful, that’s all,” Aurelie replied, staring at the ground, feeling her cheeks reddening.

Fenris tipped her chin up with his fingers, forcing her to look him in the eyes, his green eyes darkened with need. 

“That’s a shame,” he drawled, picking her up without warning, “I suppose I will just have to show you, how beautiful you are.”

She left out a small squeal of surprise as he carried her to his bedroom, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. She began kissing his neck, giving him a playful bite. He groaned, his fingertips digging into her arse. She clung to him, feeling the thrum of his lyrium markings as they reacted to her mana, the heat of his skin against hers.. He set her down on the bed, pushing her into the mattress before joining her and covering her body with his own.

Hawke’s skin crackled with electricity as his calloused fingers wandered all over her body. He removed her bustier and turned his attention to her breasts, sucking and teasing her nipples with his tongue. Hawke moaned and arched her back into him, feeling the warmth growing between her legs. She trailed her hands down his abdomen, fingers gripping the waistband of his breeches. He reached down and grabbed her wrist.

“Calm down, Hawke,” he told her with a devilish grin, “I want to take my time.”

She whimpered, her body wriggling as Fenris trailed slow kisses down her torso. His hair was tickling her skin as his fingers traced the scar on her abdomen, the one she got when the Arishok ran her through with his blade. His fingers distracted her from her thoughts; they were peeling off her underwear and pulling them slowly down her legs. She looked up at Fenris, hazy-eyed as she wondered what he was going to do next. He parted her legs, his fingers teasing her entrance whilst his thumb rubbed circles on her clit. Her hips were grinding into his hand, her head lay back on the bed. Wanton moans filled the room as he slipped a finger in her and began to pump agonisingly slowly. She knew that he was watching her, watching the way her body was coming undone underneath his touch. 

“I-I need you to kiss me,” she gasped, bucking her hips and lifting her head to look at him.

“As you wish,” he smirked as he removed his fingers from her core and slung her legs over his shoulder. 

Hawke mewled in protest before he bent down and dragged his tongue along her labia, lapping up her wetness. She thrust a hand out, fingers clenching the sheets as he began to suck her clit. She writhed and arched her back into him. All she could feel was him, his fingers pumping in and out her dripping pussy, the pressure of his tongue on her clitoris. Every nerve in her body was white hot and all she could do was think about the growing warmth pooling in her abdomen, building and building getting closer. She was a mess — breathless and moaning, one hand tangled in his hair, the other scrabbling for something solid to hold onto. She felt his other hand gripping her arse, his fingernails biting into her flesh and holding her steady. But she needed more, she needed to feel him. She needed him inside her. She was so close now, she was so close and it was torture — wonderful, exquisite torture. 

“Fen-Fenris,” Hawke breathed.

The elf looked up from his ministrations with a crooked grin.

“Yes, Hawke?” he asked as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of her pussy.

“I-I need,” she begged, “I need you — _please_ — I need to feel you.”

“Feel me where?” he said as he quickened the pace of his fingers.

“ _Fuck!_ Fenris — please,” her voice sounded breathless, “Please, I need you to fuck me. I need to feel you fuck my pussy.”

She seethed as he removed his fingers once more, her body craving his touch. She propped herself up and watched as he removed his breeches. His erection was throbbing and she couldn’t help but marvel at his self control. It must have taken all of his willpower not to give in and just take her there and then. But she knew that Fenris would not do anything until she asked him, no, begged him to. 

Fenris returned to the bed and pulled her into his lap, kissing her hungrily. Hawke shifted, she grabbed his chin forcing him to look her dead in the eyes as she lowered herself slowly onto his cock.

“ _Fasta vass_ ,” he hissed as she started to roll her hips. 

They got completely lost in each other, their bodies falling into the same rhythm. Her skin was on fire as he ran his fingertips up and down her back. He filled up her senses completely. She felt his hot breath on her cheek as he gasped her name over and over in her ear. She could smell the scent of his skin on her own, heard him moan as she bit his shoulder. He pulled her closer to him so that her breasts brushed against his chest, raking his fingernails down her spine. She shuddered, catching his lips with her own, tasting her own arousal on his lips. Nothing mattered. Nothing mattered in the world at all, except for the two of them together in the bed, fucking each other into oblivion.

Fenris shifted them back towards the head of the bed and lay back into the mattress, one hand gripping her waist. Hawke bent down and kissed his neck, her fingers rubbing and pinching his nipples. He groaned, increasing the pace of his thrusts. The pressure that had been building up in her abdomen exploded, sending wave after wave of pleasure through her body and tipping her over the edge into the abyss.

Fenris was not far behind, swearing and calling her name; his cock twitching as he came inside her. Hawke bent down to kiss him, her body boneless and shaking. His arms were the only thing keeping her from falling on top of him completely as she waited for her senses to return to her. 

“Hawke — Aurelie,” Fenris murmured, his hands stroking the small of her back, “That — that was —”

“Intense?” Aurelie offered, kissing his forehead before lifting herself off him and lying down next to him.

“Yes,” he replied, “But what I mean to say is —”

She stopped his words with a kiss.

“You don’t need to say it,” she whispered, before snuggling into his chest, “Just promise me, you won’t leave me again.”

Fenris pulled her close. He brushed her hair away from her face and looked down at her, conviction burning in his eyes.

“You have my word, Hawke. I swear it.”

Aurelie beamed at him as she felt a strange fluttering feeling in her chest. She reached up and brushed his cheek with her fingers. 

“I will hold you that, Fenris,” she chuckled, giving him a quick kiss.

Fenris caught her hand and tangled her fingers with his own. They lay in silence, limbs entangled and bathing in the afterglow. Aurelie gave a satisfied sigh. Despite the fact that they were living in a tinderbox, she felt safe. She had Fenris and somehow the future seemed a lot less terrifying knowing that he would be by her side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, that's the end of this fic. I posted this chapter later than I intended because it needed a rewrite. (The first version was way too introspective and repetitive and just...arrrrgggh!) Kind of hoping to revisit these two again at some point though as I still have some ideas for them and they are kind of my faves! I guess I just like the fact that they love each other despite their issues.
> 
> Anyway, thanks to everyone who's read this. Comments and feedback are always welcome. :)


End file.
